Where Darkness Dwells
by Rainkissed Dahlia
Summary: She's broken, he's bored. He's wandering, she's searching. Hatred dwells within a shattered girl, which piques the interests of a specific demon. Kagome/Sesshomaru with some personality differences.


**_Kagome_**

_I'm gone. Cold._

I wasn't always like this. No, there was a time when I was carefree, happily taking the problematic situations thrown at me with ease. Content with my outgoing self, easily capturing anyone's attention, getting what ever I pleased. But that ended on my 10th birthday.

* * *

_I'm scared. Burning._

Everything was burning. My home, my cherry trees, my life. All of it crumbling down, turning into ash, blowing away in black tendrils of smoke.

I couldn't grasp anything. I searched frantically for my parents, tears cascading down my dirt smeared face, leaving slim clean lines of my vanishing innocence. "Mother?" My throat was burning now, too. I heard her call for me, calmly.

"Kagome-chan." she was pinned under a burning tree, but her peaceful manner scared me most of all. "Kagome-chan, you must leave. Hurry." I stepped away slowly at first, one step, two. I slowly shook my head as I covered my quivering lips with my soot-covered hand. "Onegai." I squeezed my eyes shut. Three steps, four. "Okaa-san..." I begged. "Run!" So I did. Five steps, six. What else could I do? A young girl, who's tenth birthday was tragically ruined. I relied on my human mother, and she fell so easily, yet she seemed so strong. Seven steps, eight. I turned and began to sprint, my lungs heaving, sucking in the poisonous smoke that was my past. The steps blurred together, an infinite story that would replay many times throughout my sorrowful existence. "Aisheteru, Kagome-san..."

* * *

_I'm alone. Lost._

I began to wander aimlessly, broken and emotionless. I thought that this would become the tragic rhythm of my life. I could hear my fate, played out by every step I took. _Alone. Lost. Cold. Alone. Lost. Cold. _It wasn't long before I found myself able to ignore these dark whispers, as I shut off my emotions and memories behind an impenetrable fortress within my blackened heart. But I was wrong. This hell that I endured silently and solitarily did not last for long. No, my life became much worse.

* * *

_I'm trapped. Beaten._

I was captured by a few bulky men and taken to an all female slave camp. Oh, I could easily guess how this would go. Abused physically everyday, I became numb to pain. Whipping became a daily activity for any minute spent catching my breath or second spent wiping the sweat from my brow. Yes, I was numb to all of this, and I longed to feel _something. _So I did the unthinkable. Late one night when one of the Warden's men was taking advantage of some of the girls next to my cell, I stole his knife. The blade was cold and smooth, yet sharp enough to get the job done. Slowly, uncarefully, I dragged the blade across each wrist, leaving jagged lines in its wake. I stared at the small pool of moonlight on the dirty floor that shone through the tiny window. I was growing colder as my crimson blood pooled around me, running into the pure pool of moonlight. I sighed. I hadn't wanted to contaminate the pure light. But I quickly lost interest in the light. I was fading, sinking into my solitary misery. Wasn't this what I had wanted from the beginning? To die, painfully or peacefully, it didn't matter to me. But now, what was this new emotion I had never felt before? Regret. I didn't want to die. Not yet. But it was far too late. I had prescribed my own death sentence, and now I had to serve it out. But suddenly my arm became warm. I slowly turned my head. A girl was ripping her thin shirt into strips, trying to staunch my bleeding. More girls began helping, though not a word was said. I couldn't grasp the situation. These girls were showing me kindness that I hadn't seen in a long time. Oh, how greatful I was.

* * *

_I'm indebted. Protective._

I survived. These girls who had experienced the same abuse as I did generously gave up portions of their food and clothing in order for me to live. I became protective of them. I strived to pay them back any way I could, so I began to steal clothing from the Warden's own home on the plantation. But I wasn't careful enough. He came marching in and lined is all up, rain soaking us to the bones. He demanded to know who had stolen from him. "If the one who has stolen from me does not come forward, you shall _all _be punished." I could feel it rising: panic. But not in myself. No, panic began to well up inside of these broken girls until it rattled their bones and chilled their blood. So, I stepped forward. He stared at me, disgusted. Then, suddenly, he whipped out a sharp knife and slashed my face. I didn't fall, I didn't scream. No, slowly I raised my head and met his gaze with a defiant one of my own. I would not let him have the satisfaction of seeing me in pain. He smiled at me then, and marched off proudly. Oh, how my hatred flared then, reborn in my seemingly soulless body. I promised myself that I'd become stronger and free all of us. And then, I'd find who destroyed my family, who destroyed me.

* * *

**Sesshomaru**

Hmmm, I must admit, humans intrigue me. They easily give into petty feelings, such as anger or sadness. I find it amusing when they declare war among themselves when they are key to each other's survival. How insolent. But I find myself travelling from place to place, observing these people. Rarely I'll find someone who piques my interest, one who refuses to give into hate or other emotions. But that is seldom.

I'm afraid to say that I become bored easily, which is why I travel. I wish to find something that will hold my interest for awhile, though killing annoying demons who challenge me does grasp my attention briefly. Some may call me "high-maitenence," but those that do never live to speak about it.


End file.
